I Could Watch You For A Lifetime
by Day.By.Random.Day
Summary: Sherlock has a sweet  "ahem"  dream about John  Reviews please!


Running, running, more running. Thats what most of John's days now consisted off, that and watching the back of Sherlock's tailcoat, and broad shoulders, and slim waist, and...He always did this, getting caught up in Sherlock's appearance, but how could one not? With those tall cheekbones, sharp, silver eyes, and full lips...He did it again. He knew it wasn't healthy, he would never do more than look at Sherlock, but he was content to do that for the rest of his lifetime.

…...

Sherlock and John stopped to breathe as their chase of the china-vase-thief was brought to an end, by cornering him into Lestrade's waiting people. Their breathe's came out heavy as both tried to regain their posture and John let out a chuckle at their struggle. Sherlock caught his eye and laughed once enjoying the way John's mouth turned at the edges with his grin and the small lines around his eyes crinkled. Once they found the air they needed, they said goodbye to Lestrade and the paperwork, and left to find a cabbie.

The ride home was comfortable as both reflected on the recent chase with amusement. When they reached the flat John was the first to reach door and unlock it.

"I'm so warm," he said at Sherlock's raised eyebrow. "Need to cool down in the AC."

Sherlock only grinned in amusement as John struggled without the lock and finally managed to open the lock. He enjoyed watching John's sturdy hands work with the key and the way his brow burrowed in concentration. He was such an interesting person to watch. Sherlock had never been one for people watching despite his great deduction skills. Oh of course he could do so with ease, but eventually the information either became to much or just too useless, but it was different with John. All his little quirks, they were endearing, and attractive, and stirred emotions and feelings in Sherlock that he didn't think he had. He yearned to see more of John everyday, but that was scarce in the way John kept himself modestly covered up in his charming, but damn-full jumpers.

Once they were inside John pulled off said jumper, which was a pleasant shade of navy blue today, matching his eyes, and Sherlock followed in suit as he removed his coat and scarf.

"Tea?"

"Of course."

John disappeared into the kitchen, but rather than wait Sherlock followed him, leaning against the door frame and watching as John prepared the kettle.

"You know what I really want right now?" John said suddenly.

"Hmmm?"

"A cigarette."

Sherlock blinked a couple times wondering if he had heard that right. John Watson, Doctor John Watson, wanting something as unhealthy as a cigarette? The running must have really gotten to his head. John eyed him out of the corner of his eye, with a playful look that gave Sherlock a moment of unsure pause before he responded with a questioning tilt of his head.

"Don't lie, I know you've got you're stash somewhere," John replied. Sherlock glared at his face, trying to deduce if he was serious and from the light-hearted look he must have been. He stayed there a minute longer before reaching around the corner and grabbing a thick book from the nearby bookshelf. Opening it he removed the pack of cigarettes and lighter from the small compartment of the fake book, and placed it back on the shelf.

"Of course." John chuckled seeing Sherlock's clever hiding spot and held out a hand for a cigarette. Sherlock handed him one and watched as John stuck it in between his thin, pink lips, Sherlock did enjoy watching those lips, and began pouring hot water into mugs.

"Mind lighting it for me?" John mouthed around the butt. Sherlock leaned close, flipping on the lighter and John leaned in closer in return, giving the cigarette enough time to light before pulling away. Sherlock lit one for himself and then set the package back on the bookshelf. But when he turned back around, he was surprised to find an untucked and half-way unbuttoned John Watson. His eyes quickly soaked up the revealed skin and he was so busy studying he didn't hear John who was trying to hand him his tea.

"Sherlock!" John yelled, finally getting Sherlock's attention who gingerly took the mug from him, a light rosy tinge on his cheeks for becoming so oblivious and so obviously staring at the same time. John only smiled softly and gestured towards the sitting room. Sherlock fled quickly to the room hoping to rid himself of his embarrassment under John's gaze.

As John sat down in the seat across from him, Sherlock let himself watch, since he had already revealed his obsession. He watched the edges of John's shirt crease as he sat and let his gaze wander up to the glint of silver coming from in between the open buttons.

"You still wear those?" Sherlock asked curiously. John glanced down at the dog tags around his neck and back at Sherlock.

"Yeah, just a small reminder." John replied.

"But why would you want to remember?" Sherlock asked incredulously.

John shook his head. "Its got sentimentality, Sherlock."

Sherlock became resigned at that, of course he would wear them for some boring reason. What was the point of giving an object feelings that it could never reciprocate? It really was a waste of- well... Sherlock faltered on that last thought as he glanced at John's jumper on the ground. He had grown quite a liking to those articles of clothing...

When he looked back at John, his argument dying his lips, he was met with a smirk and more undone buttons.

"John..." Sherlock started cautiously. "John, what are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he responded casually as he set down his mug and used his hands instead to start unbuttoning his fly. Sherlock was caught, unable to look away from John's hands, but knowing it was far to inappropriate.

"John. You need to stop."

"Hmmmm?"

And then John was there, in only a short, white pair of pants and Sherlock couldn't stop himself as his eyes grazed silently and hungrily over John's powerful and muscled legs.

"Always looking, deducing with those eyes, bet you never realized what they could do to people?"

Sherlock's head shot up towards John with his statement and was met with the view of John peeling off the rest of his shirt. There was the scar that Sherlock had always yearned to see, but even more attention-grabbing was the hidden body of muscles underneath the piles of clothing. He knew John was in shape, but never this in shape. Including the fact that John was still puffing on a cigarette the over all image left Sherlock speechless, which in itself was a hard feat to do.

Yet again he received another smirk and suddenly John was there in his lap, straddling him. Sherlock looked up at John, confused but he only returned a smile before saying, "Go ahead, look at it, I know you've always wanted to." Sherlock's eyes widened but he returned his gaze to the magnificent shrapnel scar that was in his line of sight. It looked like a small explosion, pink in the middle and silvery, clear little pathways stretching outwards to envelop John's shoulder in their grasp. It was beautiful and although Sherlock would never say it out-loud, it was what brought John Watson, his doctor, to him.

Sherlock continued to try and study the scar, but John's proximity along with his hot breath fluttering down Sherlock's neck was impossible to ignore. Suddenly his chin was being jerked up by John as he crashed his lips against Sherlock's-

…...

John glanced away from his computer screen as his flatmate sat up quickly, muttering something under his breath about tags, and tea, and jumpers. His dark curls were sticking up around his head in a disheveled mess and his face was tinged pink from sleep; he was the most beautiful thing John had ever seen. Sherlock then looked at him, his face becoming possibly pinker? John held his gaze for a moment and then smiled, quickly turning back to his blog afterwards. Behind him he heard Sherlock "humph" and fall back against the couch and he could only grin again as he began typing entry about their fast pace chase after the china-vase-thief today, trying to leave out all the details of Sherlock he honed in on constantly.


End file.
